


Ensnared

by dysfunctionalgay



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Dragonfucking, F/F, Knotting, Other, Tentacle Blowjobs, Tentacles, ahamkara sex, also thats just hot lets be real, barbed tongue, dubcon, dubcon but with consent made obvious narratively, forked tongue, knotfucking, knots, listen in my head dragons are like cat/snake hybrids, listen kyra's kinks are valid, riven cums bc i say so, riven doesnt rly have a gender imo but we use she/her pronouns so f/f and other, riven has a dick, so forked/barbed tongues make sense, take your pick, taken sex, tentacle...jobs?, using tails and tentacles for nefarious deeds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:07:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23152990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dysfunctionalgay/pseuds/dysfunctionalgay
Summary: A game of cat-and-mouse where the hunter and hunted take equal pleasure in the capture.
Relationships: Riven of a Thousand Voices/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 64





	Ensnared

**Author's Note:**

> This is for all us Rivenfuckers.

Kyra finds herself in a glistening cavern, jagged geodes rising high above her and collecting in expansive, ornate archways that seem to beckon her forward. Every step sounds like a whisper; sound is distorted here, in some places echoing with the force of an amplified theatre; in others, muffled as if the stone pathways are protected by a thick yet indiscernible layer of velvet. She is hardly paying attention to where she’s headed, instead stealing glances at the reflective crystalline surface of the chamber’s walls, a quick twitch of her eyebrows the only reaction apparent when she senses another presence joining her own.

_"Back so soon, o beauty mine?"_

She doesn't dignify the subtle teasing with any acknowledgement, pale blue fingers trailing over a faceted wall. Theirs is an old game, the art of seduction, bantering and parrying until Kyra finally yields, and yet despite the number of times they’ve partnered in this familiar dance, it somehow never gets old, and even when she knows what to expect, the arrival of her lover still sends a shiver down her spine.

Riven descends from above, gliding in on wings unseen, massive form twisting around itself, curling downward and settling silently on the stone floor no more than fifty feet away from where Kyra stands. Though she might pretend indifference for the sake of their favored patterns of seduction, even Kyra is not immune to the arrival of an ahamkara at her back; still, she maintains a carefully presented air of disinterest as she slowly turns, leading with a glance over her shoulder, angling herself just enough to keep Riven within her line of sight.

_"Are you ignoring me, o cold one? Surely you don't pretend indifference."_

It's a game. Of course she pretends indifference; she does every time. "I did not come for you, Riven. This is my home as well."

She's lying, on both counts. Riven's laugh rumbles through her and Kyra's knees nearly go weak. _"_ Was _your home, o guardian mine. No longer. But still you return. Time and time again you walk these halls. Knowing I watch. Must we lie to ourselves?"_

Her lips press together, her brows knitting briefly before she consciously smooths her expression out once more. “I am no Guardian.” Her pride offended, Kyra turns away and continues following the wall as it winds through this hidden realm of the Dreaming City, fingers splayed over the stone. She can sense Riven getting closer, but doesn't turn, though the whispering of the geode seems to magnify, picking up in time with the hair on the back of her neck.

This is their ritual, a pattern that never grows old. She can feel her heartbeat, the adrenaline spiking as the hair on the back of her neck stands. Guardians are an apex predator; becoming _prey_ is a delicious sort of release. Knowing she's being hunted, if in a manner that defies any sort of urgency, is a rush like nothing the Crucible could ever provide.

“ _So you tell me. Yet you fight alongside them, do you not, o warrior mine?”_

She glances into the natural mirrored surface of the crystal and witnesses a flash of Riven’s altered form before the Ahamkara catches her spying; Kyra turns away casually, knowing that though Riven has shifted into a smaller version of her true self, it makes her no less threatening - mentally or physically. “When it suits me. Your Taken hinder my efforts; your Hive are a nuisance.” 

It’s an intentional provocation, made no less damning by her refusal to directly acknowledge Riven as a threat. Kyra’s forward momentum is brought short as she feels a clawed hand close around her upper arm; her reacting exclamation is half-snarl, half-shriek as she whirls around toward Riven, one hand lifting with a concentrated sphere of void energy held captive by her fingers. Kyra thrusts her palm forward while trying to twist her other out of Riven’s grasp, handheld supernova exploding in the Ahamkara’s face. It's a futile effort; Riven's grip is like iron, her strength unmatched by anything Kyra could produce, and her resilience withstanding any single burst of damage Kyra could hope to inflict.

Compared to Riven, Kyra is weak - and that knowledge thrills her, sending another flood of adrenaline through her veins. Riven pushes her up against the stone wall and Kyra gasps, the impact stunning her momentarily. Riven isn't gentle, but still she's somehow precise in all her actions, angling Kyra so that she avoids any direct strike to her head. Kyra struggles, grabbing for one of Riven's arms, glaring up into her many eyes. She is still draconic, maintaining her facial features and scaled form, still significantly larger than Kyra, her size only reduced enough to allow her to handle Kyra without any extreme contortion. A clawed hand pins both of Kyra's arms above her head with no effort; another one wraps around her waist, easily spanning the width of it and then some.

Kyra kicks out, a toe managing to glance off the leathered hide of Riven, and judging by the unwavering flare of her facial plates and unflinching grip, Riven doesn’t even notice. Her hands are pinned at the wrist; she manifests a grenade that bounces off Riven’s shoulder; a long forked tongue extends in a brief hiss. Kyra can’t allow herself to just give in, to go belly-up and submit like some spineless slave. She knows she will be unable to resist for much longer, but every second that passes is one she must prove her worth.

 _“So much struggle against something we both know you desire.”_ Kyra can hear the amusement in Riven’s voice, and she knows it’s just another part of the act that both of them put on for each other. Though Riven sounds almost exasperated - if such a word could be ascribed to an ahamkara - it’s a ploy, part of the appeal of every exchange. Riven enjoys teasing Kyra about her feigned reluctance just as much as Kyra enjoys putting up a struggle, just so she can be put in her place, driven to the point of surrender - and prove that she alone is deserving of Riven’s attention.

Riven presses her scaled underside against Kyra, tentacles winding out to wrap around her thighs, stroking up and down above her armor and causing the muscles to quiver. A wave of arousal rolls through her and Kyra gasps, then clenches her teeth. "Just a beast," she spits out, forcing her voice to remain even, to not waver in her desire. "Forcing yourself on me."

Riven's laugh rumbles through her head and against her ear simultaneously. _"Kyra, o lover mine, why do you insist on this? Can you not face your own desire?"_ Smaller tendrils expand, sliding along the catches of her armor, slowly unlatching the plates one by one with surprising dexterity even as Kyra does her best to twist out of reach, not yet bound motionless but restrained with no hope of escape. Dispatching the armor that protects her legs, Riven’s tentacles resume winding slowly around Kyra’s thighs, Kyra’s breath is coming heavier - she could pretend it’s from the exertion of trying to get away, but every whisper from Riven sends another wave of arousal rolling through her body and straight to her core.

 _"You hunger for this. You crave me, you are satisfied by none other."_ Kyra tries muster up a refusal, but the sharp retort morphs into a groan as Riven’s forked tongue trails along her neck, spines prickling along her skin and leaving behind a painfully cold sensation, pulsing with an odd static tingle that remains even when Riven pulls just slightly away. Her laughter thrums once more, this time against Kyra’s collarbone, and Kyra bites down on her own lip to seal away any more noises that would betray her need.

Two more clawed hands move to the breastplate of Kyra’s armor, finding the clasps with practiced ease and deftly releasing them; she peels the Light-infused metal away with a flood of Taken darkness that makes Kyra cry out, arching against Riven helplessly as she caresses her torso with playful gentleness; Kyra doesn’t want soft, tender touches, and Riven knows this - but she only gives Kyra what she wants when Kyra _wishes_ for it.

The line of Kyra’s ribs couldn’t possibly be that fascinating, and yet Riven’s claws spend ample time tracing the dips and peaks of her sides nonetheless, refusing Kyra the direct contact she craves by keeping her touches above Kyra’s body suit, her long tail winding around Kyra’s hips and dipping lower to whisper against the warm space between her thighs. Kyra whines, hips jerking of their own volition, trying to grind down on a surface now that something solid has been teasingly offered and taken away, head falling back against the geode wall so that Riven’s tongue can scrape across her throat.

Pretending the battle is not lost would be a fool’s mission at this point, and if nothing else Kyra refuses to make a fool of herself; she finally finds her voice long enough to gasp out; “Riven, _please_ , I need --”

The words are no sooner out than her body suit is gone, the wish carrying a multitude of layers that Riven interprets and grants with humor and desire that seems to ooze from every inch of her scaled body. Her tail presses again, much too tactile to be reasonable, sliding against Kyra’s folds, and Riven is delighted to find her Risen lover dripping already, the blunt base of her claws applying the lightest pressure to Kyra’s nipples in order to bring forth another whimper that follows her desperate cry.

Riven’s tail is independent and flexible, sliding above and then between Kyra’s folds, the tip curling and pressing until Kyra moans, grinding down against it, gasping out wordless noises of need and desperation. _"Your noises, o needy one, they delight me."_ Every movement Riven makes, every word she speaks, is just another shot of desire straight to Kyra’s aching cunt, and she clenches around nothingness, mindless now with the promise of more that she can sense on the verge of everything Riven does.

 _"Would you take more of me, if I offered it?"_ Kyra feels cold slickness against her lips, pressing firmly, a thin tendril that slips into her mouth on the next whine, swelling until it’s wide enough to fuck her mouth, insistent but gentle, coercing active participation from Kyra and making her whimper. _"Your tongue…"_ Riven's purr reverberates through Kyra's head, through her body. She's lost.

 _Please. More._ Kyra doesn't need to say it aloud; Riven is in her head as always. She can’t find the source of the laughter; it fills the chamber around them and seems to fill Kyra’s head as well, echoing and thrumming deep into her core, arching toward Riven desperately as she shifts just enough to lift herself more parallel to Kyra’s body and the wall behind it. A clawed hand plants against the geode next to where its pair holds Kyra’s wrists, two more bracing on either side of her hips; Kyra gains the presence of mind to glance downward and shudder at the sight that greets her.

Riven knows what she wants. Kyra whimpers and whines around the thick tentacle in her mouth, held firmly in place as Riven’s cock replaces her tail, sliding between the folds of Kyra’s pussy, teasing her with the promise of being fucked. Riven is soon coated in Kyra’s wetness, and it joins the Taken-tinged essence that oozes from the slit in her cock, manifested purely based on Kyra’s desires. Riven shifts her lower half, and Kyra’s abdomen flexes as she sucks in as much of a breath as she can around the thick shaft filling her mouth and flirting with the back of her throat.

Tortuously slow, Riven slides her cock into Kyra, taking her time and letting both Kyra and herself experience each inch. Arousal washes through them both; Kyra’s brought forth by every precise effort made by Riven, and Riven’s sparked by the desperation she’s provoked from her lover. It feels like a lifetime passes before Riven is fully seated inside Kyra, and it feels like even longer before she begins to gradually move, urged on by the needy sounds and nonsensical demands that Kyra makes.

She doesn’t care that Riven is just shy of being too large to be comfortable; it’s purposeful, pushing Kyra right up to that edge where pain meets pleasure and keeping her carefully balanced on the border. Riven leaves her wanting for nothing, increasing the speed and force of her fucking, every sensitive area on Kyra’s body played as an accompanying instrument by claws or tentacles, drawing out noises that are muffled but loud. When her force begins to overtake Kyra, Riven pulls the tentacle from her mouth and instead wraps a hand around Kyra’s throat, applying light pressure that sends Kyra sky-high; she comes, shaking and quivering, all but sobbing Riven’s name as she does her best to keep fucking herself onto Riven’s cock. The pressure is released only long enough for Kyra to get a breath; Riven does not pause, taking her and fucking her with all the force and aggression Kyra craves. She's held almost immobile, given no option but to take what Riven gives her, to be used and pleasured beyond her limits.

A forked tongue replaces the tentacle, swirling around Kyra’s own tongue, fucking briefly into the back of her throat before Riven hisses; “ _You are_ _ mine. _ _Helpless. Desperate._ ” Kyra feels like her mind, her entire awareness, is splintering apart, and that the only thing keeping her from losing corporeal shape is the hold of her lover. She clenches down, riding out her second orgasm on a scream just barely muffled by the hold on her throat and the tongue in her mouth, feeling the responding surge as Riven redoubles her efforts, slamming her cock into Kyra, and finally Kyra feels it, that familiar swelling at the base.

Her pleasure is beyond comprehension; she's mindless with need, her noises unabating as she feels Riven’s knot gradually forming with each thrust, fulfilling a desire of Kyra's funneled straight from her thoughts. “ _You will take_ _all_ _of me,_ ” and it’s a threat, a growl, a promise, one that sends her right back over that edge after barely having recovered from her last soaring fall, gasping and crying out through the orgasm, the sensation prolonged by the unending stimulation that brings her to the point of oversensitivity, and still Riven does not subside.

She keeps thrusting, her knot growing thicker, Kyra only getting wetter and Riven producing more slick Taken essence to ease the way, drawing up a measurable effort to keep forcing the knot into Kyra with each pump of her hips until finally she’s swollen to the point that the final push elicits a sharp gasp of pain from Kyra. The sensation of being stretched beyond her limits pushes Kyra to another orgasm before the aftershocks of the last even wear off; she clenches down around Riven’s cock and can feel the knot, pulsing right against her g-spot as Riven grinds against her, a growl preceding the splash of Taken essence as Riven releases.

It fills Kyra, splashing against her inner walls in a seemingly endless icy rush, the sensation of being flooded carrying Kyra into another orgasm. Riven holds herself against Kyra, keeping her pinned motionless against the wall as she empties herself into her willing lover, hips continuing the smallest grinding motion so that there is a relentless tug of her knot against Kyra’s entrance, forever reminding her that Riven is locked inside.

For a minute the only sound filling the cavern is Kyra’s heavy breathing, one of Riven’s claws tracing lazily over her collarbone, another drawing senseless shapes into one of her hip bones, scaled jaw heavy on her shoulder. _"You're so good for me, o Kyra mine. You find ecstasy in this, in belonging to me, in being taken by me, do you not?"_

She doesn’t need to hear an answer, but elicits one anyway when a tentacle curls around Kyra’s hip and rubs lightly over her clit; the breathless, keening gasp is good enough for Riven, who flicks her tongue across Kyra’s earlobe approvingly. She can feel Kyra shifting and answers by rolling her hips forward and back again, a larger movement that has her knot tugging firmly against the opening of Kyra’s pussy.

“F-fuck, Riven, e-enough--” And even still she has to maintain dignity, refusing to admit that she could never be sated, that when it comes to Riven she simply loses the concept of there ever _being_ enough. The clawed hand that had relaxed around her throat tightens yet again, the tongue against her ear curling around the top of the lobe and scraping across the sensitive skin, another claw dragging lightly across a nipple, down the curve of her breast and over her ribs. The tentacle between Kyra’s legs grows more intent, sliding and flicking across her clit.

“ _Don’t be foolish. We are nowhere near finished.”_


End file.
